Firsts
by ijustliketowatch
Summary: A follow-up to "White Lies" consisting of a series of drabbles about "firsts" in Oliver and Felicity's relationship.
1. Date and Time

First of all, I'd like to thank the amazing quisinart4, who left me the kinds of reviews that a writer dreams about. Her lovely words are what convinced me to write this, so this is dedicated to her.

Second, just a warning, very little of this will make sense unless you've read my other Olicity fic, "White Lies." I wanted to separate this chapter from that work, first, because this chapter has a different rating and, second, because this might be the beginning of a new drabble series. One final point before we get to the main event, I'm not frequent smut writer, so be gentle, hopefully it's not terrible.

* * *

Oliver would be perfectly content to consummate their relationship right there on Felicity's desk. She seems open to the idea, initially. She moans against his mouth when he sets her down on top of the desk and pushes her legs open to stand between them, but makes a nervous sound and pulls away when he tries to put his hand up her skirt.

"Oliver, wait," she says breathlessly, but he just moves his mouth to her neck and settles for sliding his hands to grip her ass over the fabric. "Oliver, seriously, stop," she says more firmly and pushes against his chest with both hands. He reluctantly steps back and sighs while Felicity takes advantage of the space to scramble off her desk and run around to the other side. He starts to follow and she picks up the laptop he brought in and wields it like a weapon. It's so adorable, he can't help but chuckle.

"Is that really necessary?" he asks.

"Hey, I know you're not just a mild-mannered, billionaire CEO," she quips and smiles. He makes a grab for the laptop, but she pulls it out of his reach and gives him a warning look. Oliver sighs and slumps down into her chair and she sets the computer down.

"So I'm the only one who's had the office fantasy then?" he jokes in hopes of making her blush, but it surprisingly doesn't work.

"You're not the boss here, remember?" she replies, completely ignoring his question. "I'd lose my job if we got caught."

"Would that really be so bad?"

"Oliver," she says and tilts her head admonishingly.

"Fine," he sighs. "Dinner tonight? I'll pick you up here at 6?"

"7," she corrects. "And from my apartment."

"You drive a hard bargain, Smoak," he replies and stands. She doesn't retreat when he approaches her this time. Just smiles up at him in a way that makes him wish it were later in the day. He stops in front of her and rests his hands on her hips.

"Someone's got to make you pay for what you did to that laptop," she explains and leans up to kiss him. She means for the gesture to be quick, a promise of something more, but Oliver intensifies things, leaving her breathless and a little dazed.

"See you tonight," he says as he pulls back and swipes away the smudged lipstick with his thumb. Felicity only groans in response.

He calls his secretary immediately and explains that he'll be out of the office for the rest of the day and she should only contact him in an emergency. His next call is Diggle, who he tells to take the night off and who laughs and signs off with a mildly threatening, "don't screw this up." Thea is a little less enthusiastic, complaining that she doesn't want to oversee the numerous incoming shipments alone, but then Oliver suggests she get Roy to help and she is more than happy to let him off the hook.

The rest of the day he spends making various arrangements, calling in favors when necessary. At one point, he even appears at his favorite restaurant to beg the chef to take a night off and make a private dinner. He resists up until the moment Oliver adds another zero to his initial offer.

After that, it's a simple business of going home and getting ready. Or it should be. For some reason, Oliver struggles to find the right suit and tie. He's on his third combination when he realizes Felicity probably doesn't much care considering she always seemed to like the way he looked sweaty and shirtless in the lair most. He spends so long musing over the fact that they'll both get to act on it next time that when he looks at the clock, he realizes that he needs to leave immediately or he's going to be late.

More than a few traffic laws are broken as Oliver makes his way to her apartment. He rings the buzzer and her garbled voice comes through the speaker saying she'll be down in a minute. He paces on the top step of the stoop, wondering if he should have spent a little more on bribes when the sound of the door opening draws his attention.

"Oh my God," he mutters as he holds the door open for her.

"I didn't know where we were going, so I wasn't sure what to wear," she says nervously and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"You look incredible," he says firmly. And she does. Her hair is down, her glasses are absent and her lips are painted his favorite shade of pink. The dress is sexy and a shade of blue that complements his tie perfectly.

"Thanks," she says and blushes.

He follows her down the stairs and then rushes to open the car door for her. As he did the last time he picked her up, Oliver wraps his arm around her waist to stop her from getting in, but this time, he waits until she turns to face him and kisses her lips. They stand there a few moments, making out on the sidewalk in front of her building before he pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers and smiling down at her.

"Hi," he says softly.

"Hi," she echoes.

"Are you sure about this whole dinner thing?" Oliver asks, only half joking. "We could order in, I hear Big Belly Burger delivers now." She laughs and kisses him again before pulling back to look into his eyes.

"Are you kidding? This might be the last chance I have to spend a night somewhere other than behind computer screens in a dingy club basement. I'm going to make the most of it."

"Good point," Oliver sighs and releases her. Felicity climbs into the car and once Oliver climbs in and starts the engine, he immediately tunes the radio to her favorite station; simply pushing the pre-set button closest to her side of the car, having added it to the list long ago.

"Thanks," she says and playfully pokes him in the arm. "So where are we going?"

"You'll see," Oliver says and turns to wink at her.

It's not too far from her apartment, which isn't something Oliver planned, but even if it weren't the best wine shop in the city, it might have earned that title by proximity alone.

"Ooh," Felicity coos as he helps her out of the car, "I've always wanted to go here."

"You'll love it," Oliver says and offers her his arm. "And we've got the place to ourselves tonight. They don't usually do private tastings or dinners for that matter, but I had them install a stove this afternoon." Felicity stumbles slightly at that and looks up at him in shock.

"Oh...oh my God, Oliver," she stutters, "I can't imagine how much that must have cost."

"Worth every penny," he says and opens the door for her.

They're greeted by the shop's owner and he takes them to a small table for two set up amongst the shelves of wine. The chef comes out to greet them shortly after, giving them a rundown of their courses before disappearing to the newly set-up kitchen.

"Was that...?" Felicity begins and leans forward conspiratorially.

"Yup," Oliver replies.

"But I thought he never missed a night at his restaurant?"

"Billionaire remember?" he says and spreads his hands in a showy gesture.

"Wow," Felicity sighs and leans back in her chair, "you're really pulling out all the stops. I don't know what you're going to do for a follow-up."

"I've got some ideas," he replies and smiles slyly.

"Well, as long as it's not a surprise European vacation, I'm on board," she jokes and then looks down to set her napkin on her lap.

Oliver manages to laugh, but internally he makes a note to call his pilots to cancel the flight plans they discussed.

From the way Felicity shuts her eyes and hums her approval when she tries each course, the meal and wine pairings are perfect, but Oliver scarcely notices. It's been so long since he got to hear Felicity talk that he's completely focused on their conversation.

She talks about work and her projects there and he tries not to hope that he can convince her to leave all of them behind to come back to QC. She mentions how excited her parents are about their upcoming trip to France for the summer break and Oliver decides to find out all the details so he can start getting on their good side immediately by upgrading everything. She talks about some changes she's just made to her apartment's furnishings and Oliver smiles knowing he actually has a chance to walk into it.

"So what about you?" she asks, "what have you been up to? I've been reading about you and Diggle taking down Saverin's men in the news." Oliver feels his shoulders tense and he actually shivers at the memory of what it's been like without her in the lair. "Oliver?" Felicity's voice breaks into his thoughts. "Are you ok?" she asks and reaches across the table to place her hand over his. He smiles and exhales shakily before gripping her hand in his.

"It's been a little tough without you," he dodges, but Felicity must see something in his eyes because she takes her napkin off her lap and walks over to him. She runs her free hand through his hair and leans down to kiss him and Oliver closes his eyes to savor her touch.

"I'm back now," she says softly when she pulls away.

"I know," he says, taking her hand in both of his and kissing it.

They avoid talking about the Hood the rest of the night. Instead, he talks about business; how the company is finally recovering from what happened in the Glades and making sure to drop a pretty poorly-veiled hint about needing a new tech supervisor for the Research and Development Department that earns him a stern look. They discuss Thea and how the way running the club has given her focus and led her to decide to go to business school. Though he wishes she were a little less in love with that Harper kid and more willing to go to a college outside of the city. He talks about his mother and the fact that Walter's divorce finally going through hasn't made her prison sentence any easier. Felicity listens attentively throughout and Oliver is struck by how much he appreciates being able to talk to her about everything in his life.

Their final course isn't the typical dessert, instead, it's an assortment of cheeses with dried fruit on the side and a sampling of wine to compliment each variety. Felicity has just sampled the French triple cream when she lifts a small glass of red wine to her lips.

"Oh my God," she says softly and shuts her eyes as if she's in ecstasy. "You have to try that." Oliver does and hums in pleasure at the taste.

"I think that's the Chateau Lafite Rothschild," he says. "It's nice, but probably not as good as that bottle of '82 I gave you."

"I wouldn't know," she replies bashfully and Oliver jolts in surprise. "I was saving it for a special occasion," she says defensively.

"Does tonight count?" Oliver teases and by the way she smiles and looks up at him through her eyelashes, he guesses that it does.

They're in the car and headed toward her apartment within minutes.

As talkative as they were over dinner, they sit in complete silence now. Oliver remembers his mouth is what got him into trouble last time and doesn't want to make the same mistake. He guesses by her fidgeting that Felicity is probably nervous.

They remain silent when the car pulls to a stop in front of her building. They exit the car simultaneously and Oliver follows Felicity to her door. His heart starts to pound as she searches for her keys, the memory of the last time this happened and how poorly that ended making him anxious. Yet, somehow, he's even more on edge once she opens the door and he finally steps into the foyer for the first time. The click of her heels on the tiled floor echoes around the space, and though anyone standing in the hall could probably hear it, the sound feels somehow intimate, a reminder that he has a right to hear this sound in this space now, that Felicity is finally his.

Oliver suddenly feels hyper-aware of her. He can hear the muffled creak of the carpeted stairs as they climb up them, can hear the sound of the fabric of Felicity's clothes shifting over her skin as she moves. He reaches out a hand and lets his fingertips brush the exposed skin of her arm and he feels her shudder. He suddenly notices how much the blue of her dress contrasts with her creamy skin and sighs at the realization that he'll finally get to find out what that skin tastes like.

Finally, after what seems an eternity, they reach her floor and she leads him to her door. Instead of opening it, though, she turns to him, her face a little flushed and her voice a little breathless.

"So this is me," she starts and twists her keys in her hands. "It's really small, but it's not as messy as it was when I was still working in the lair every night and had zero time to clean. But It's probably still embarrassingly small compared to what you're used to at the Queen Mansion so don't–." But she doesn't get to finish whatever she was going to say because Oliver stops her with a kiss.

"Please open the door," he says a little desperately. Felicity lets out a small laugh and turns away to do just that while Oliver takes the opportunity to brush her hair to the side and kiss her neck. She barely has the door open before he's pushing her through it and kicking it closed behind them. She drops her things on a nearby table and sighs when he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. She drops her head back against his shoulder and one hand covers his where it's splayed across her stomach while the other slides around his neck and into his hair.

"Bedroom?" he whispers against her neck.

"What about the wine?" she protests, though her tone lacks conviction.

"It can wait," he replies and steps back a little so he can unzip her dress. The action must dissolve any lingering anxiety Felicity felt a few moments ago because then she's walking out of his grasp, kicking off her heels so fast that Oliver would laugh at the sudden loss of height if he weren't so busy kicking off his own shoes and removing his tie and jacket.

She flings open the door of her bedroom and then turns to look him, shimmying out of her dress and letting the material pool at her feet, leaving her in matching undergarments in a shade of green not far from those she wore in the first dream he had about her. He groans at the sight and she smiles, making it clear she knew exactly what she was doing when she chose them.

Oliver's hands leave the buttons of his shirt and suddenly he's touching her skin and lifting her up so that she can wrap her legs around his waist as they kiss. His legs hit the edge of the bed and he lays them down. He only lets go of Felicity long enough to let her push his shirt off his shoulders and then they're wrapped around each other again, hands and mouths exploring.

Eventually, they have to break apart to catch their breath and Oliver sits up on his knees and stares down at this beautiful woman he wants so much.

He's imagined this moment in more ways than he cares to admit, but now that he's here in Felicity's bed, with her stretched out in front of him, ready for the taking, he can't decide what he wants most. He reaches down to remove her bra and then runs his hands over her body. It's when she arches as his hands reach her hips that he knows exactly what they both want.

He lays himself down on top of her to kiss her one more time before his lips leave her mouth to trail down her body, pausing to lick and bite as he makes his way down and then sliding her panties off.

They both moan the first time his tongue delves in to taste her. Only she shivers. Oliver pulls back a moment to savor the tang of her on his lips and she catches his eye and smiles, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, before he presses his mouth to her again and she whimpers.

His pace is slow, exploratory, but it's not long until he has to lay an arm across her waist to keep her from moving. He's glad it's there later when he brings his other hand down and slides two fingers inside her, his tongue now focused on her clit. Her hands fist in his hair and he's urged on by the way she mewls and moans. But it's the way she calls out his name when he pushes her over the edge that he likes most. He laps at her as she comes down from her orgasm–extending it–tasting as much of her as he can and then lifts his head to look at her.

Oliver sees the expression of pleasure on her face as she catches her breath and he desperately wants to kiss her, but he doesn't know if she enjoys that: tasting herself on someone else's lips. Luckily, she makes the decision for him, grabbing the sides of his face with both hands and dragging his mouth to hers for a slow, passionate kiss. He's content to keep kissing her, laying between her legs as his arms bracket her, but Felicity has other plans. Her hands slide off his face and glide down the planes if his chest, stopping at his waist and making quick work of his belt. He hisses in pleasure, breaking their kiss, when her hand wraps around him, her fingers so much smaller than his. He groans as she starts to pump him and she smiles that mischievous grin at the way he rocks against her hand.

"Condom?" he mutters, his voice low.

"I'm on the pill and clean," she replies and swipes her thumb over his tip.

"Me too," he says and pushes himself up and off the bed so he can take off his pants.

"I hope you're only talking about that second part," she says and he chuckles.

He kneels on the bed between her legs and runs his eyes over body–as if committing it to memory–and when their eyes meet again, he realizes she was doing the same to him. They both smile for a second and then he's on top of her, one arm at her side holding himself up and the other guiding himself into her. He watches her face as he does, sees her shut her eyes and tilt her head back as she sighs. She bites her bottom lip to stifle a moan when he brings her right leg up and presses it to her chest between them so he can thrust deeper. She feels amazing and when Felicity opens her eyes to look at him again he feels so much affection for her that he can't go another second without kissing her.

He delights in the way he can feel her breathing grow heavier against his lips as he picks up speed. But somehow it's not enough. He wants to see her. So Oliver breaks their kiss and rolls them over so Felicity is on top and she gives him a devilish grin before she starts to move. He groans and shuts his eyes as she does, his hands reaching out blindly to grab her hips and urge her on.

After that, he just watches her, transfixed by the way she undulates on top of him, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. Felicity reaches out and places both hands on his chest to steady herself as she starts to move faster. Oliver responds by sliding one hand down to rub his thumb against her clit and thrusting harder into her. Her head falls back and she moans and Oliver suddenly decides he doesn't just want to watch her anymore, he needs to feel her.

He takes his hand from her hip to push himself up while his other hand leaves her clit for a moment so he can pull her against him and trail kisses along her collarbone. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and her fingers fist in his hair so she can pull his face up and kiss him. The movement of her hips becomes more urgent and Oliver knows she's close, so he moves his hand back to her clit and presses hard and suddenly her head falls back and Felicity is screaming his name and Oliver isn't sure if it's that or the way she tightens around him as she comes that finally pushes him over the edge too. All he knows is that it feels exquisite and he wants to experience it with her again and again.

They continue to rock against each other, their pace slowing as they come down from their orgasms. Oliver falls back against the bed, pulling her down with him and they stay that way for a few minutes, making out while his hands move over her back and into her hair, feeling as much of her as he can. Felicity finally slides off of him, but only enough to snuggle against his side. Her lips leave his as she does, but after a moment they're back against the side of his neck.

"That was incredible," he sighs and turns to look at her.

"Yeah," she says in return and Oliver can't help but laugh at the brevity.

"That's all I get?" he jokes. "Any other time I get an adorable ramble, but now, all of a sudden, you're a woman of few words?" She laughs and reaches up a hand to his face, swiping her hand from the edge of his hair and then down over his cheek before it comes to rest in the stubble under his chin. She scrubs her nails through it and Oliver can't help the low moan that sounds deep in his throat.

"I'm just a little tired," she says softly, playfully.

"I hope not too tired," he replies and moves his head to kiss her palm before continuing. "The night is young."

"Yes, it is," Felicity replies saucily and pushes herself up to kiss him.

They do eventually open that bottle of wine. Oliver fumbles around her kitchen looking for her corkscrew and wine glasses and just manages to get the wine poured when Felicity walks out of the bedroom in just her glasses and his shirt. He hands her a glass and the bottle and then proceeds to drag her directly back into the bedroom arguing that the wine needs to breathe anyway.

The next morning, Felicity picks up the half-full bottle and worries that the flavor is ruined, but then Oliver pulls her back into bed. He takes the giggling and the way she sighs when he kisses her to mean that she isn't terribly concerned.

* * *

Thanks for reading and if you have any ideas for any "firsts" in Oliver and Felicity's relationship you'd like to see, let me know in a review (and maybe tell me what you thought of this one while you're at it). I can't guarantee I'll use the ideas, but it can't hurt to put it out there.


	2. Look

Here it is. Sorry this took so long, but Felicity's a complicated gal. I'm probably going to do quite a few chapters from different perspectives just because it seems like it might be fun for me. Hopefully I didn't butcher her voice too much.

* * *

Felicity had imagined her glorious return to the lair more than once in the weeks after quitting Queen Consolidated (heralding trumpets, fireworks, that whole deal), but she had never really though it would happen. And yet here she was, walking through the empty club floor to the keypad-protected door of the lair—and with something better than fanfare: Oliver. No more days of dying silently of need as he worked out half naked in front of her. No more punishing herself for day-dreaming about what it would be like to forget all the reasons to stay away and go back when she should have been focusing on her new job. Because none of it mattered anymore. He'd come to her and now she could have him anytime she wanted, like she had the other night in her apartment.

She smiles at the memory as she punches the code into the door, but her mood is ruined the moment she looks at the space for the first time. She notices the differences immediately. Diggle had told her about the damage—said Oliver had nearly destroyed it beyond repair in the two weeks before he returned from his honeymoon, said that it took him a full week to get the space functional again. The renovation had taken two months of planning and construction last year, every detail of it personally overseen by her. So, seeing it now, even though the equipment looks relatively organized, she can still tell how bad it really must have been.

Her number one concern during the renovation had been lighting. If she was going to have to spend most of her nights in a concrete hole in the ground, she was at least going to make sure it was well-lit. Yet most of the concrete pillars are devoid of the lights she had installed along them. She approaches one of the now-bare columns and sees that chunks of concrete are missing from where the fixtures used to attach. Those that remain are dented or look like they've been reaffixed. Even the overhead square of light that outlines the main work area seems slightly askew, as if one corner came untethered from the ceiling and was hung back a little off.

The most noticeable difference, though, is the glass cases that house most of the equipment; or rather, the complete absence of glass in any of them. Only the metal frames remain. Felicity approaches the case that contains Oliver's Hood uniform and finds a single, forgotten shard of glass still embedded in the frame. She reaches out and pulls it free, holding it up to the light and pondering how much force it would have taken to break through glass half a centimeter thick.

She wanders around the rest of the lair and frowns at each new discovery of the damage Oliver wrought. The medical cart has a dent in the side that looks like it roughly corresponds to the toe of Oliver's boot. Most of his weapons seem to be brand new and she shudders to think what happened to the others. But worst of all is her beloved 3D printer. It doesn't look irrevocably damaged, but the dent in the side worries her. She almost tests it, just to find out, but stops herself because she would rather not have to yell at Oliver on her first day back.

Felicity examines every section of the lair except one: her own desk. If the rest of it is this bad, she can't imagine what he did to her computers—fragile and defenseless as they are. Yet when she finally squares her shoulders and approaches them, she realizes that they're almost exactly as she left them. The screens have been tilted upwards slightly to accommodate Diggle's height and her keyboard is askew, but the equipment is all the same. Maybe a little dustier than she would typically allow it to get, but still the same pieces.

So Oliver smashed everything in the lair except her computers. Well, it's hard not to read something into that, though she's not quite sure what. But she does know that there is one difference about her desk: her favorite pink cardigan is missing. She's wondering why, of all things, that would be gone when she hears the beep of the door unlocking.

"Felicity?" Diggle's incredulous voice floats down to her. She turns and sees the other third of their team standing at the stairs and a wave of affection rushes through her.

"John!" she exclaims and rushes to meet him at the bottom of the stairs.

"It's so good to see you back here," he says and wraps her into a hug.

"Thanks," she replies and squeezes that big bear of a man before letting go. "How's Carly?"

"Good. She wants you to come for dinner again—AJ too. I don't think a day goes by where he doesn't ask about you."

"I know," she says and grimaces, "I've been really busy lately."

"So I've heard," he teases and she blushes, "you and Oliver, huh?" Felicity only shrugs and smiles in response.

"Well, if he ever steps out of line, I'll give him a piece of my mind," he threatens, but his tone is too tender to make him seem very frightening.

"I think we both know I have no problem doing that myself," she counters and he chuckles.

"So how's it feel being back?"

"Weird. You weren't kidding about the damage."

"Yeah, I never thought I'd be able to get it to look this good. And Oliver wasn't much help." He adds the last part as a low grumble and Felicity can just guess how many fights there must have been.

"Well, I can get it back to peak condition," she says firmly. "At least he didn't touch my computers," she adds and pats one of the monitors. "But do you know where my sweater went? It's my favorite."

"I threw it out," he says tonelessly.

"What?! Digg, why would you do that?" He doesn't respond right away, just crosses his arms and eyes her warily.

"It had Oliver's blood all over it," he says finally, his voice tight.

"What?" Felicity says hollowly and feels her stomach tie itself into knots. "How...?"

"I don't know," Diggle starts, sounding a little distant. "He's been such a ghost since then that I never really asked him about it. Though I'd guess it had something to do with those two broken fingers he had on his right hand. He actually growled at me the first time I tried to throw it away. Had to wait until he was gone to do it."

"But why..." Felicity begins, but she's interrupted by the beep of the door being opened. She and Diggle both turn toward the sound and Oliver steps in a moment later. He stops in the middle of the staircase and smiles so wide at the sight of them that Felicity can't help but forget their conversation and smile back.

Even so, the effect of it had must not be totally gone from her expression because Oliver's brow creases slightly when he first walks up and kisses her.

"Hey," he says softly and strokes her cheek.

"Hey," she replies and privately marvels at the fact that this is real life and not the best dream ever.

"Ok, lovebirds," Diggle says, "what's the plan for tonight?" Oliver steps back a little before answering, but still stares at her in a way Felicity thinks is a little vulgar considering their partner is standing right there.

"I was thinking we do a little sparring while Felicity settles into things again?" he suggests and turns a questioning look toward Diggle, who shrugs his approval.

"Works for me," Felicity says. "Who knows how long it'll take me to fix all the damage you two have done to the system."

"Now wait a minute," Diggle says defensively, "I read through that _very_ detailed email you sent about using it. I doubt there was anything you didn't cover."

"Well, I remember what the system looked like when I first got here. Just because I never intended to come back doesn't mean I wanted it to go to hell." Diggle smiles, but Oliver's reaction is so quick, Felicity almost misses it. For one split second, his whole body stiffens; his fists clench at his sides and his eyes shut tight like he's just been struck. And then he recovers. The tension leaves his body as he exhales, but his eyes still look a little haunted.

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" Diggle asks and claps Oliver on the shoulder and Felicity's unsure if he saw it too.

"We'll see about that," Oliver counters and smiles. He winks at Felicity before he and his partner go off to change into their work out clothes.

Though "clothes" is a loose term in Oliver's case. Somehow he seems more shirtless than usual. Though maybe that's just because Felicity knows what's under all that clothing now. She shakes her head and tries to focus on updating the system and fixing the mess he and Diggle made of it—the two of them really are the greatest accidental hackers who've ever lived—but Oliver's not exactly making it easy on her. He's always liked to show off (and she would never dream of complaining about his penchant for exhibitionism, distracting as it may be), but he's in rare form today. Every time he lands a hit or climbs another wrung on the salmon ladder, he seems to glance over to gauge her reaction, like some big needy puppy looking for encouragement. It's so adorable it almost makes her angry. How is she supposed to get anything done under these conditions? She pays him back a bit when she has to crawl under her desk and do a bit of rewiring because somehow they've managed to tangle those up too. She smiles to herself when she hears a loud whack and Oliver's startled "Ow!" from behind her.

Eventually, Diggle leaves with the excuse that he has to get home to Carly and AJ, but Felicity suspects he has an ulterior motive and she once again thanks whatever higher power brought him into their lives. Oliver continues to train and she gets lost in the rhythmic sound of him shooting arrows into tennis balls (with only one digression into why he always wears a belt during workouts and what a hindrance it would potentially be). She's so focused on her screens, she doesn't notice he's behind her until his gloved hands suddenly fall onto her shoulders. She jolts in surprise and then relaxes as he begins to knead the tension out of her muscles.

"Mmmm," she hums in satisfaction and shuts her eyes.

"I like having you back," he whispers into her ear and nuzzles into her hair. She unconsciously wraps her arms around her chest and runs her hands up and down her arms, feeling the goosebumps on her skin.

"Cold?" he asks and kisses her temple, his lips feeling so warm against her skin.

"Yeah, I wish you hadn't ruined my sweater," she says absently and only realizes what she's said when she feels him tense. His hands and lips stop and he pauses a second before pulling back from her and standing perfectly upright. Felicity spins around to face him and she's struck dumb for a moment by the anguish in his expression.

"Oliver, I didn't mean..." she starts and then stops when she realizes he's not looking at her. She stands and sees that his eyes are unfocused, empty, that he's a million miles away. "Oliver?" she says, unsure, and places a hand on either side of his face so she can turn him toward her. "Oliver," she repeats a little louder and his eyes focus again. He looks at her like she's a ghost and before she has time to think, he's gripping onto her like he's afraid she'll disappear.

"Felicity," he says, but she barely understands it because his face is pressed so tightly to the side of her neck that it muffles the sound.

"It's ok, Oliver, I'm here," she reassures, voice breaking because he's shivering even though the heat is still coming off his body in waves. She's never seen him like this, so broken, and it scares her. She runs her fingers through his hair—still slick with sweat from his workout—because she knows that calms him. "Oliver, what happened?" she pleads and just as quickly as he grabbed her, he's pushing her away, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast in shame. The sudden absence of his warmth is so acute, Felicity has to take a moment to catch her breath.

"Oliver, what happened to you after I left?" she asks and reaches out to him again, but he flinches and takes a step back like an animal afraid of being struck and she swears she hears him whimper. "Diggle said you broke your hand?" she presses and steps toward him, but doesn't try to touch him again. His eyes are distant again and his breathing is growing heavier, like whatever he's remembering is frightening him and something in her mind clicks as she remembers those first days after she quit. "Does it have to do with that man you...beat up?" she asks and his eyes snap to her. His lips part like he's about to say something and he looks almost desperate, pleading. She can't stand to see him like that. Felicity slowly approaches him and tentatively brushes the fingertips of one hand through the stubble on his cheek. His eyes drop closed at the contact and he sighs.

"Please tell me what happened," she begs and reaches her other hand up to brush through his hair again. Oliver reaches up a gloved hand and lays it over hers, pressing it against his cheek.

"I didn't mean to do it," he mutters, eyes still closed. "I was on my way back here from your apartment when I saw him attacking that woman."

"You were at my apartment that night?" she asks incredulously, unable to stop herself from interrupting. He stares at her a moment, like he's expecting her to be angry and she strokes her thumb across his cheekbone to reassure him.

"I went there to try to talk to you," he says barely above a whisper. "I wanted to convince you to stay, but then you smashed that statue I bought you for your birthday and you were crying on the floor." He pauses and looks up at her, so sad, and she feels like the wind has been knocked out of her because that day is so painfully clear in her mind.

She remembers throwing Hoppy 2, mad at herself because Raymond had just accused her, again, of having an affair with Oliver. She had yelled at him, not because the accusation was wrong, but because her love for Oliver had hurt a good man and she still couldn't keep herself from wanting him. She'd spent hours picking up the pieces and putting it back together, only to realize it was pretty much ruined. But that explains why she had found him examining the repaired figure with little smile on his face when she'd gotten out of the shower the other morning.

"I was watching you from the fire escape and I wanted to open your window and go to you so much," Oliver's voice breaks into her thoughts and she can't help but imagine how things might have gone if he had. She would have forgiven him right then; torn that perfectly-fitted Hood outfit off him and had her way with him right there on her bedroom floor. Her heart aches for how much pain could have been avoided. No nights spent laying awake for hours wondering what he and Diggle were doing. No moments of yearning and fear every time she heard a news report about the Hood. No catching herself standing stock still in her apartment with no idea how long she'd been paralyzed by how much she missed him.

"Why didn't you?" she finally asks, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"I thought you hated me," he says and the pain in his voice almost crushes her. "I thought you hated me for ruining things with Eddie and I didn't want to hurt you anymore." She feels tears fill her eyes and as hard as she tries to stop them, one escapes down her cheek. Oliver reaches up to wipe it away and then stops himself. He drops both hands to his sides and turns his face away, looking ashamed again.

"When I saw that guy...I just snapped," he continues, voice low and dangerous. "I didn't realize what I'd done until," he pauses and she can see him steeling himself, "until he was already dead. I came back here and when I realized I was hurt, I went to the medical cart and I couldn't stop thinking about you..." He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, like he's trying and failing to fight off the memory. "I lost it, Felicity," he says and finally looks at her again and she gasps slightly at the devastation on his face. "I couldn't stand the idea of you hating me and I knew how disappointed you would be in me for what I did."

"Oliver," she says and grabs his face with both hands before he can step away. "I don't hate you. I never did. And I'm not disappointed in you. You're the hero I always thought you could be. You made a mistake, but you're still good." He looks at her, so desperate, so worried that she might not mean it or that it might not be true. She does the only thing she can think to do: she kisses him like their lives depend on it.

It takes him a second to respond, but then he's kissing her hard and he's holding her so tight she can barely breath, but she doesn't mind because she's relieved that he's holding her at all. He picks her up and carries her (_God_ she loves when he does that), setting her down so she's pressed against one of the concrete pillars that she is now very thankful no longer has a light fixture attached to it.

She scrapes her nails down his back and her whole body reacts to the low rumble it causes deep in his throat. He's undoing the buttons of her shirt, but his gloves are slowing him down; so, with a frustrated growl, he breaks their kiss so he can take them off, tossing them away thoughtlessly. Felicity's glad he did when he finally gets her shirt open, clearly so desperate to feel her by then that she's surprised he didn't rip it. She moans as his hand move under the fabric, grasping her so hard that she's pretty sure there will be bruises. She doesn't mind, though, because she's already obsessed with the way his rough hands feel against her skin and she wants a reminder of it marked into her. But his hands aren't enough. So she slides her hands around to the front of his pants and undoes that stupid belt.

He stops moving a second when she wraps her hand around him, resting his forehead against hers, but then she pulls him sharply and he grunts and lifts her up so her legs are wrapped around his waist. Felicity pulls her skirt up while Oliver pushes his pants down and then he moves her panties out of the way and thrusts into her and they both gasp. He buries his face against her neck and braces himself against the concrete pillar and she wraps her arms around his shoulders and just hangs on.

It's not like it was the other night in her apartment. That was celebratory. This is almost desperate, like they're trying to obliterate any memory of how awful it was to live without each other. In fact, this is what she always imagined sex with Oliver would be like: rough and a little relentless, but also incredible. Like it would have been if he'd come into her bedroom instead of running.

"I wish you had climbed through my window that night," she pants and he looks up at her, eyes clouded with lust.

"Me too," he says and then plunges his hands into her hair, roughly pulling her mouth down onto his. She's even more breathless than before as he pulls back and his thrusts grow harder, which she didn't think was possible but is so happy to discover is. "I kept hoping you'd come here the next day," he breathes onto the skin of her neck between kisses she knows will leave marks.

"I did," Felicity admits and she regrets it immediately because Oliver's movements stop and he looks up at her, surprised but also so tender that she can barely stand it. "I made it all the way to the door," she explains, "but I knew if I came back here I'd never leave again."

"Don't ever leave again," he begs, his voice breaking as he leans against her.

"I won't, won't," she promises and kisses him for all she's worth because she might really cry if he keeps looking so sad and frightened. She swivels her hips because she wants him, _needs_ him, to move and he must understand because he resumes his pace and it's not long before they're both calling out in pleasure. The sound echoes around them , grounding them, reminding them that whatever happened before is over, that they don't have to miss each other anymore.

They eventually make it back to her place. Oliver looks less haunted by then and when he takes Felicity into the bedroom, he sets her down softly on top of the sheets. He takes his time, undressing her slowly and gently kissing the places he bruised or marked earlier. It feels like adoration and Felicity is pretty sure they're in love with each other. She doesn't say anything though because, really, this night has been complicated enough. Instead, she savors the fact that they have each other at all and clings to the hope that they never have to experience losing each other again.

* * *

Thanks for reading and I'd love you forever if you left a review. Next chapter will hopefully be fluffier and up faster. But it's really up to one Thea Queen.


	3. Person

Well, here it is. Finished much faster than I expected and with yet another new POV.

People seemed really interested in the idea of Thea and Felicity's first official meeting and this is what I came up with.

* * *

Thea Queen is not an idiot. Sometimes she pretends to be because it makes life easier.

Like that time the cop pulled her over for speeding three days after she'd gotten her license. She had batted her eyelashes and swore she hadn't seen that change of speed limit sign because she _just couldn't_ figure out how her headlights worked. Really, she had been high out of her mind, but the cop was just young enough and just arrogant enough to buy into her flirting Or that time she'd gone into the hardware store and pretended to giggle at the word calking to distract the store owner while her friends stole cans of spray paint. Or really _any_ time someone asked her to do something she didn't want to do, she would pretend it was too complicated for her to understand until the person gave up and did it themselves.

But Oliver should know better. He hasn't fallen for her tricks since she turned 9. She's actually a little offended when he blatantly lies about dating someone, treats her like an idiot for seeing the signs and denying them. Childhood experience also should have taught him that that only makes her more determined to find out.

There's clearly a new girl. Despite what he said about being fine about his breakup with Laurel, Oliver basically went into a brooding spiral the likes of which only Roy could rival in the weeks after. He was short and evasive and kind of a dick, so eventually, she had backed off. Running Verdant and looking at colleges was enough to deal with, he'd figure himself out.

But, man, when he finally did, she couldn't believe the difference.

_He'd come into the kitchen one morning while she was eating breakfast, hair rumpled, clearly wearing the yesterday's clothes. Textbook walk of shame; except he didn't look ashamed at all. He was beaming. Like he'd just been told those five years on the island were a dream, like he'd never felt sad in his whole life._

_"Hey, Speedy!" he'd practically yelled and thrown his arms in the air._

_"Hey, Ollie," she'd said suspiciously. "Are you just getting home?"_

_"Yup. Ooh, is that bacon?" he had said and grabbed for a piece._

_"Hey!" she had said and swatted at his hand, but he had still managed to swipe a piece. "What's got you in such a good mood?"_

_"It's a beautiful day! Why wouldn't I be in a good mood?" he had asked and then nearly skipped out of the room._

Thea assumed it was a one-time thing, but after the fifth time, she asked if he was on drugs because that seemed like the only logical explanation. He just doubled over in laughter. After that, she just accepted it. He was happier than she'd seen him in a long time, maybe ever. As long as he wasn't so irritable, she didn't really care why.

Or she thought she didn't. The question of why he didn't tell her about the new girl gnawed at her. He'd been more than willing to talk about McKenna and Laurel and even that Helena chick. So why not this one? She succeeds in dismissing the question for a while, but there's only so long she can hold out. Really, Oliver did this to himself; he knows how she loves to gossip.

Thea starts her reconnaissance at the next closest person to the source: his bodyguard Diggle. She approaches him one day in the club. Oliver's just left to excitedly answer his phone, completely forgetting their very heated discussion over staffing.

"Huh," she huffs, surprised. "I don't know what's gotten him in such a good mood lately, but I'd like to buy her a drink. Or bribe her to never leave." She hears him laugh quietly and turns to see him smirking after her brother. "Any idea where I could find her?" She suggests innocently, but a Diggle sees right through her. He raises an eyebrow and squares his shoulders.

"I don't share details about my clients' personal lives, Miss Queen," he says firmly, but there's a slight smile on his face when he says it. So, she at least takes that as confirmation that it's a girl and not drugs and decides to count that interaction as a win.

Her next stop is his secretary because she knows Oliver's had a penchant for them in the past. She walks into his office one day during a time she knows he has a meeting across town.

"Hey Michelle," she says cordially, "is my brother in? I wanted to go over a little club business with him."

"No, I'm sorry, Ms. Queen," the girl responds.

"Darn," Thea says and takes a moment to assess the girl behind the desk. She's pretty and a brunette so she's at least his type.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Queen?" she asks,a. Little confused by Thea's staring.

"Maybe you can, actually," she says conspiratorially and leans on the girl's desk. "I think my brother's been dating someone and I'm trying to track down who. You wouldn't have any idea who would you?"

"I don't know if I feel comfortable commenting on Mr. Queen's personal life," she says nervously.

"Oh come on," Thea pushes. "I can keep a secret. I know exactly how strict the company dating policy is," she says with a sly look that leaves no doubt about what she's intimating. But clearly it's the wrong assumption because Michelle's demeanor changes instantly. She straightens up and starts to organize the papers one her desk a little roughly.

"I'm sorry Ms. Queen, I can't help you," she says haughtily.

Thea has no choice but to thank her and retreat. She definitely could have handled that one better, in retrospect.

The Verdant staff is a last ditch attempt. The bouncers are, unsurprisingly, discreet and basically won't commit to anything more than having met an Oliver Queen, but she has better luck with Sheila, who tends bar most nights.

"I don't see him upstairs that often," she explains. "He only ever flirts with any of the girls up here for a few seconds before moving on," she says a little wistfully. "The only woman I've ever really seen him spend much time with is that blonde girl who works downstairs. Felicia or something?"

The name strikes at something in Thea's mind, but she can't seem to conjure a mental picture. Of one thing she's certain: there's nobody on the payroll who fits that description. She's made it a point of pride to learn the names of every employee at the club, so whatever she does downstairs, it doesn't have anything to do with Verdant.

Thea has never asked Oliver why he spends so much time in the basement. When she first took over running the club, he'd given her his office on the second floor overlooking the dance floor. He had explained she would be doing most of the work anyway and it would be easier for him to concentrate on QC business without so much noise. It made sense, but soon, she couldn't understand why he left his office at QCHQ at all. The occasions when he made an appearance upstairs were sporadic at best and he rarely stayed on the floor for more than the length of a song. Clearly he wasn't there for the nightlife. It wasn't like he wanted to micromanage the club either. He mostly left any decision-making up to her after the first few weeks. She had never really confronted him about it because sometimes it was just easier to let him do what he wanted and avoid the hassle. Her curiosity had only ever gotten the better of her once.

_Oliver had come upstairs to make his usual Saturday appearance and was headed back down to the basement. Thea had hastily broken off the conversation she was having with a bouncer and followed him, using the noise of the music to cover her as she had followed him to that key pad-locked door and watched him punch in the code. She had almost laughed aloud when it turned out the number matched the sequence of knocks they would use as children to communicate through their bedroom walls, the same pattern they had used to distinguish who was and wasn't allowed to enter the tree house they'd built in the backyard. She hadn't confronted Oliver then, but she'd remembered the code._

"Is there anything else you need, Thea?" Sheila's voice breaks into her thoughts.

"No, thanks for your help," she replies and heads toward her office. Fridays are always busy and she's spent many dealing with emergencies well into Saturday morning, so she wants to get as much paperwork done now while it's quiet. Besides, she's exhausted every possible source of information here, she'll have to think of another way to find evidence.

When Thea finally emerges from the office hours later, the club is in full swing. Even though the pounding music and flashing lights now signify work instead of fun for her, she still finds the anonymous, electric atmosphere of a club comforting. She's leaning against the railing in front of her office, watching the dancing swarm of people, wishing Roy were here, but also glad that he isn't so he can take night classes at Starling State, when something catches her eye.

It's a blonde woman making her way across the dance floor. This in and of itself wouldn't be odd, but her appearance is. She's not dressed in the skimpy clothing typical of their clientele. Instead, she's dressed like she just came from work: professional but pretty dress, heels, hair down, glasses with thick frames. It's not a bad outfit—Thea actually quite likes it—it just doesn't make sense here. She's wondering where this woman came from and why she seems so determined to make it across the dance floor when Thea finally realizes who the woman is looking at.

Oliver is standing near the entrance chatting up the bouncers and when the woman finally reaches him, she places a hand on his shoulder and waits for him to turn. And Thea is sure the moment he does turn that this must be the mysterious blonde from downstairs because he gives her that same joyous smile she saw the first morning he came home acting like a crazy person. She tries to get a better look at the woman's face, but it's partially blocked as she leans up to say something in Oliver's ear. He nods and grabs her hand and lets her lead him back through the crowd of people.

At least for a few moments. When they reach the middle of the dance floor, Oliver stops and the woman looks back, confused. He smiles mischievously and starts to dance, pulling her toward him in the process. The woman, who Thea still can't identify in the dim lighting, starts to dance. The song that's playing is fast, almost frantic, but the pair dance to their own rhythm as they stare into each other's eyes. Their movements are a little slower than everyone else's, Thea would be tempted to call it sexy if applying that word to her brother didn't totally gross her out. Oliver's arms are wrapped around the woman's waist and hers are wrapped around his neck and they're smiling and talking like they're the only people in the room. She almost feels like she's intruding.

Thankfully, the song shifts to something new and the woman slides her hands off of Oliver's shoulders and starts to drag him off the dance floor. She realizes then that this might be her only chance to get the truth, so Thea rushes down the stairs, for once thankful at how immovable the club crowd can be, and heads toward the basement door. She's leaning against it, arms folded across her chest when they walk up smiling and holding hands.

"Thea!" Oliver says, surprised.

"Hey, Ollie," she says smugly, "who's your friend?"

"This is Felicity," he says and pulls her closer. "She's actually my girlfriend," he explains proudly. The woman blushes a little and looks self-conscious and Thea suddenly realizes who she is.

"Hospital girl," Thea says absently. She knew there was something going on there. Oliver frowns at the moniker, but Felicity doesn't seem to mind. She actually smiles.

"That's me," she says brightly. "It's nice to meet you again, formally."

"You too," Thea says and shakes Felicity's outstretched hand. "So, I think Ollie said you work together right?"

"Yes. Well, not really. Not anymore, I mean. I used be in IT at QC, but then I quit and I'm at a new place. Not that I didn't like QC, it's just..." Felicity finally pauses to inhale a breath, but Thea sees Oliver nudge her and her mouth snaps closed.

"And now you work here too?" Thea says skeptically. Oliver and Felicity look at each other, clearly about to lie and suddenly Thea knows the truth.

"So you know about the Hood then?" she says and she almost laughs at their reactions. Felicity's eyes go wide with panic and whatever words she may have been holding back come spilling out in a sort of meandering stutter/ramble, while Oliver's body goes tense. But instead of getting angry like she always assumed he would, he looks embarrassed.

"How did you know?" he says softly and Felicity goes quiet.

"Oh come on, Ollie, it wasn't that hard to figure out," Thea says nonchalantly. And once she knew the passcode to the basement, it really wasn't. She'd kind of always suspected something was amiss, seeing the basement just confirmed it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Oliver asks, still stunned.

"Why would I?" Thea says with a shrug. "It's not like it would have stopped you." Felicity stifles a laugh and smirks when Oliver tries and fails to give her an admonishing look. Thea is pretty sure she's going to like this Felicity girl.

"Does Roy know?" he asks.

"No. I'd rather he not get involved. I already spend enough time worrying about you."

"I'll keep an eye on him for you," Felicity says and wraps her other hand around Oliver's. They gaze at each other for a moment and Thea can't help but wonder if she and Roy have ever looked that in love.

"Good," she finally says. "But I'd still like to get to know the girl who's making sure my brother doesn't get killed. You should come to the house for dinner Sunday."

"I'd like that," Felicity replies.

"Well, you two probably have to go save the city now and I'm sure there have been at least two fights on the floor since I've been over here," Thea says and moves away from the basement door.

"We'll talk later though," Oliver says and puts his free hand on her shoulder.

"I'd like that." And she really would because it really does feel like so long since she actually _talked_ to her brother.

Thea turns away and walks down the hall when her phone starts ringing in her pocket. She takes it out and looks down to see Roy smiling back at her.

"Hey, babe," she says when she brings the phone her ear. "Guess what I found out."

* * *

Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear some comments if you can spare the time.

The next chapter is going to take a little longer because it's kind of a big one. Lots of moving parts and such. But I've already got some of it written and I am SO excited about it. Should have it up within a week and a half, certainly before the premiere.


	4. Photo

Well, here it is and in record time. I really was excited about this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Felicity always knew this day would come. In fact, she was surprised they'd lasted this long.

"Felicity, honey," her mother says over the phone, "a journalist called the house today asking about you and Oliver." She feels her stomach drop and she knows her days of anonymity are at an end.

"Did you tell him anything?" she asks.

"Of course not," her mother says defensively. "But I had to stop your father from telling him everything. You know how he likes to brag about you."

"Yeah," Felicity sighs and shakes her head, but also smiles because she can picture it perfectly. "Is he there right now?"

"He's in the garage finally refinishing the armoire from the living room. Do you want me to get him?"

"No, that's ok, Mom. I should probably call Oliver anyway."

"Ok, I'll talk to you later. And tell him I owe him a home-cooked meal for everything he did for our trip. Especially that bottle of wine he had waiting for us at the hotel. He's got good taste in wine, you know."

"I know," Felicity says and feels her cheeks redden. "I'll tell him you said so. Love you."

"Love you too, Hoppy," her mother says and hangs up the phone. Felicity drops the receiver of her office phone and leans back in her chair with a sigh.

Well this sucks. She's been resigned to this since they started dating, but knowing that she's going to have to make an effort every time she leaves the house out of fear of being photographed is not the best news she's ever gotten. She and Oliver had done a pretty good job of hiding thus far; he was good at evading persistent paparazzi thanks to so much practice evading the police as the Hood. They had been careful not to be seen in public. There had been a few blurbs, of course, but until now there had been no pictures and they hadn't known her name.

"At least they won't have to call me 'mystery blonde' anymore," Felicity mutters to herself and picks up her phone. She's reaching to dial Oliver's number when she has a sobering thought: what if her mother wasn't the only person they called?

"Edward," she whispers and cringes. She debates for a moment whether she should call him, but in the end, she decides it's necessary. She'd rather he not find out from a snooping journalist.

She takes a deep breath and dials his work number. The phone rings thrice and she thinks she might get off easy and just leave an awkward, rambling message, but then she hears the telltale click.

"Hello?" he says.

"Um, Edward, hey," she starts. "It's Felicity."

"Oh. Hi," he says stiffly. Oh God, this is going to be terrible.

"Hey, so, um, apparently there's been a journalist snooping around about me and I wanted to call you before he did."

"He already has," Edward interrupts.

"Oh. Oh, Edward, I'm so sorry you had to find out that way," she says. "I promise you, nothing happened between us when you and I were together."

"He already told me that," he interrupts again, his voice a little harsh. They're both silent for a second until she hears Edward heave a sigh. "Does he make you happy?" he asks softly.

"Yes," Felicity replies.

"Then I'm happy for you," he says sincerely. "I told the journalist to go fuck himself," he adds and she laughs.

"How have you been?" she asks because she wants to ease the tension but also because she genuinely cares. They were friends before they dated, after all.

"I'm good. Work's been busy. I never realized how many responsibilities you had," he says and feigns exhaustion.

"I'm the best in the biz, remember?" she says with a laugh, recalling their old joke.

"Well, I might actually believe it now," he replies, amused.

"Karen says you guys are dating now?" she asks, remembering the very nervous phone call her friend and former coworker made to ask her if that was ok.

"Yeah," he says a little bashfully. "It's new, but we're having fun."

"I'm glad."

"Well, I should get going," he says after a beat. "You know how Robertson is about personal phone calls."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Take care of yourself, Edward."

"You too, Fel."

Felicity spends the next half hour calling various friends and family, only to find that most of them have already been called and had varying degrees of success at fending off the journalist's questions. Aunt Ruth will not be getting an invite to the traditional family holiday dinners, that's for sure.

She's about to finally call Oliver when her phone rings and she sees his office number on the display.

"Felicity, the press found out your name," he says curtly before she can even say "hello."

"I know," she sighs.

"What?! How?" he blurts, shocked.

"He basically called everyone I know this morning. Wait, how do you know?"

"My old agent called me," he says tonelessly.

"Your _agent_?"she replies, incredulous.

"I used to have one before the island," he says matter-of-factly, "just to coordinate event appearances and such."

"So, like Paris Hilton, basically," she teases.

"Actually, yes, I think he represented her too," he explains with not nearly enough shame in his tone.

"Oh my God," she says and smacks her hand against her forehead, "I can't believe I'm dating you."

"You love it," he teases. And before she can think about what she's saying, she replies with, "I really do." Felicity fidgets in the brief silence that follows, acutely aware that they haven't actually said those three little words to each other yet, but Oliver seems unfazed.

"So can you leave work and meet me at the lair?"

"What? Why?"

"We need to work out a strategy."

"What for? They know who I am, what can we do about it now?"

"The tabloids are going to be offering a lot of money for the first picture," he says with scary familiarity. "So the paparazzi are going to be following us constantly. For obvious reasons, we can't have that."

"Right. I can probably leave in about an hour. I've got to finish up a few things first."

"Ok, I'll see you then," he says and hangs up without a goodbye. Just one of his usual quirks that's somehow charming even if it's also a sign of his tendencies for singular focus and impatience.

Oliver is pacing around the training area like a caged animal by the time she gets to the lair.

"We have to choose a big event where a lot of photographers can see us, something we'll be able to control a little bit," he says the moment she walks in the door.

"How about the opera?" Felicity suggests when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. "_Giulio Cesare_ just started," she adds as she sits in her desk chair.

"Not public enough," he says with a frown. "We'd have to tip them off beforehand and I'm not sure I want to give the impression that we want to cooperate with paparazzi."

"Well, can we go anyway? That's my third favorite opera."

"Sure," he says absently and then stops his pacing and turns to face her.

"What's your favorite?" he asks with a tilt of his head.

"_Carmen_," she replies and takes quiet satisfaction in the fact that he wants to make time for this conversation, but not the social graces.

"Hmm, I pegged you for a Wagner fan," he says curiously, "a bit more technically complex."

"He has his charms. _Tristan und Isolde_ is like a textbook opera—passionate love that ends in tragedy and all that—but _Carmen_ was my first. My Mom's always loved opera, so she took me for my 9th birthday as part of my extracurricular arts education. We were pretty much in the top row of the Starling Opera House, but even then I was mesmerized."

When Felicity focuses back on Oliver, he's giving her a contented little smile that does things to her.

"How about a Rockets game?" she says to distract herself. "I'm sure QC has nice seats behind home plate or something."

"Behind the dugout, actually," Oliver corrects and resumes his pacing. "But I think you've got the right idea. We'll be within view of the television cameras most of the night and the regular photographers will be able to get some pretty good shots."

"Baseball it is, then," she says with a nod and turns to her computers. "Looks like their next game is tomorrow against the Dodgers," she says after a few quick searches. "It's a good thing this happened now, I suppose. I don't think we'll make it very far in the post-season."

"You're a Rockets fan?" Oliver asks.

"Not really," she says. "My Dad's always been a fan, but mostly I used to keep track in college for a little while. I was a gambler remember? I tried sports betting for awhile before I realized it wasn't worth the time spent doing statistical analysis and research when I could make just as much on a week's worth of games as I could in a casino in a couple of hours."

"Once again, you are remarkable, Felicity Smoak," he says and looks a little in awe. "I wish I could have known you then," he adds, looking contemplative.

"You know, I saw you once at a party," she says bashfully.

"What?!" he yells and stumbles a bit. "When?"

"The Delta Zeta Incident," she says mischievously and laughs when his face blanches.

"You were there that night?" he asks weakly.

"Well, I left before you got expelled from Starling State and the sorority lost it's charter, but I was there for the beginning." He blows out the breath he was holding and the tension in his body leaves with it.

"What were you even doing there?" he asks, confused. "You weren't in Greek life were you? I don't remember meeting any double majors in Computer Science and Art History in the month I spent enrolled there."

"No, no, no," Felicity says and waves her hands adamantly. "I was a freshman. It was my first party actually." Oliver leaves the track he's been walking into the training mats and walks toward her as she talks. "My new roommate and I had gotten a flyer about a meet-and-greet at the sorority house that night and I wasn't really interested, but she was, so I tagged along. It was a pretty chill party until you and Tommy showed up."

'Well, it was my fourth college," he says and leans toward her over the computers. "I'd been to quite a few sorority parties by then."

"I could tell."

"Wait, how come you didn't get in trouble?" he says curiously.

"I had to leave a little early. That was the night of the infamous pot brownie."

"Nut Girl!" Oliver says excitedly and points at her.

"Oh God!" Felicity exclaims and buries her face in her hands. "You actually remember that?"

"Pretty girl gets carried out of a party before I get a chance to introduce myself," he says charmingly, "Tommy and I were pretty disappointed."

"Yeah, right," she says, but she's blushing anyway. "So how does this work?" she asks in an attempt to get past the embarrassment. "We just show up at the game and act all lovey-dovey?"

"Pretty much," he agrees. "The security at the stadium is pretty good about keeping media away during games, but Diggle should probably tag along just in case."

"Where is he anyway?"

"He's tracking down that damn journalist," he says harshly.

"He's not going to hurt him is he?" she asks, sounding like she's scolding him.

"Not necessarily," he replies sheepishly.

"Oliver, that's not going to help our situation," she admonishes and tilts her head.

"Alright, I'll call him off," he grumbles and takes out his phone.

They spend the rest of the night in the lair because they don't want to risk being followed by any photographers. Oliver works out and then spars with Diggle when he arrives while Felicity finds a cute Rockets jersey online and schedules it to arrive at her office tomorrow morning. She and Oliver leave the lair separately and he doesn't risk coming over to her apartment that night. It's disappointing enough that she's almost glad that they won't have to hide anymore after tomorrow.

Work goes fairly smoothly the next day. Felicity can tell the journalist's snooping has started talk around the office when conversation comes to an abrupt stop when she walks into the pantry for her usual morning coffee. The looks some of her female coworkers give her the rest of the day are also a little hard to miss.

So, when that bastard journalist calls and tries to sweet talk her, she's a little less than friendly. She gets a lot more enjoyment than she probably should from spitting out a "no comment" and then slamming her phone down.

She's relieved to go home when the time comes and spends the hour before Oliver and Digg pick her up fretting over her appearance. She's basically worked herself into a low-grade hysteria by the time they arrive and she huffs in frustration when she plops down into the backseat of the town car.

"You ok?" Oliver asks.

"Not really," she says and reaches up to rub her face and then stops when she realizes that will screw up her make up and slams her hand on her leg instead. "It felt like everyone at work was staring at me and then that journalist called and at least I got to yell at him, which was fun. But then I got home and this stupid jersey is too big and I'm all flushed because I'm freaking out and I can't calm down because I just keep thinking how bad I'm going to look in pictures–" her angry ramble is cut short when his hand wraps around hers and she looks at him for the first time since she sat down.

"You look beautiful," he says softly and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

"You have to say that," she replies.

"Doesn't make it not true, right Digg?"

"He's right, Felicity, you look great," he says and winks at her in the rearview mirror.

"Thanks, Digg," she says and blushes. "You don't look so bad yourself, Queen," she teases. The baseball cap and t-shirt really do suit him, though she reflects that she's yet to see him wear an outfit that didn't suit him.

"Thanks," he says and leans over to kiss her, but the bill of his cap knocks her in the head and she leans back in surprise.

"Maybe I don't like your outfit," she jokes. "I hope that thing doesn't become a problem," she adds and flicks it with her finger.

But it sort of does. Felicity forgets Oliver's wearing it and ends up turning right into it a few times when she tries to talk to him. She doesn't beat herself up over it though; other things are drawing her attention. The game is, unfortunately, not one of them. She gathers from her father's frantic phone call about seeing her on the TV that it must be a pretty good one. She's too busy trying to ignore the stares of people around them and the group of photographers turning their lenses on them whenever there's a pause in gameplay—and sometimes even when there isn't. Looking photogenic all the time is harder work than she thought. She asks Diggle to bring her a beer with her hot dog to help take the edge off.

Oliver makes things a little easier because he seems so used to the whole show. He keeps an arm around her shoulders or his hand in hers or on her leg most of the night. Part of it is for the cameras, but she suspects the other part is an unconscious need to protect her, which she oddly finds kind of sweet. It actually causes a pretty funny moment when a journalist sneaks over to them while Diggle is getting food. All it takes is one Hood-like glare from Oliver before the guy slinks away without a word. He actually keeps her laughing most of the night, whispering in her ear every once in awhile whenever she starts to get uncomfortable. Despite the showiness, they don't kiss. It's not something they talked about beforehand, but Felicity shies away when he tries to early in the night and Oliver doesn't try again. She hopes he doesn't mind. It's just so weird to know everyone is watching.

They manage to make it until the Seventh Inning Stretch without incident.

"Oh no," Felicity says when she glances up at the jumbotron.

"What?" Oliver says and scans the crowd for a possible threat.

"Kiss Cam," Felicity says like it's her sworn enemy, which it is at this moment. "Oliver, you don't think they'll put us up there right?"

Before he can answer, their faces appear on the screen and the crowd cheers a little louder. She sees the photographers turn their cameras in their direction out of the corner of her eye and she's sure the whole stadium can see her mortification. She feels Oliver's hand gently caress her chin and she thinks he's going to turn her toward him, but instead, he tilts her face toward him a little so he can kiss her cheek. The bill of his cap still manages to nudge against her temple regardless. The crowd gives a little groan of disappointment and she watches the giant Oliver on the screen shrug charmingly and then wrap his arm around her shoulder again. She snaps out of her awkwardness then and mirrors the shrug and smiled and then drops her hand to his knee.

"Ugh, I hate this," Felicity says once the camera moves on to another couple.

"Me kissing you? I beg to differ," he teases and tickles her shoulder.

"No," she says and laughs. "Performing," she explains and gestures to their surroundings. "It just feels so gross and impersonal. Like everything about our relationship belongs to everyone except us."

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," he says and she can just tell he's punishing himself.

"I know," she replies and squeezes his knee, "but it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting into."

Oliver contemplates her for a moment—head tilted, brows furrowed in concern—before he smiles and leans in to whisper something in her ear.

"I love you," he says so softly she almost misses it.

"Yeah?" Felicity says and pulls back so she can look into his eyes.

"Yeah," he confirms and she feels like she's going to melt at the look on his face, so tender and full of worry that she won't say it back.

"I love you too," she replies softly and laughs when the biggest grin she's ever seen on anyone breaks across Oliver's face. With a swat of her hand, she knocks the hat off his head and grabs his face to kiss him.

Felicity knows that this moment will be the one splashed across tabloid covers and gossip sites tomorrow morning, that this moment will become public property to be analyzed and reprinted over and over, possibly for the rest of their lives.

But she doesn't care.

The public can have this moment because his words were just for her. And those are so much better.

* * *

Thanks for reading and, as always, please leave a review and tell me what you thought. It makes my day.

I'm actually being serious this time when I say that the next chapter is going to take a bit of time. The story can go in a number of directions from here and I need to decide if I want fluff or angst next. But really, I just need a bit of a break writing-wise. I should have a new chapter up sometime around the premiere.


	5. Fight

Hey everyone, sorry this took so long. I really did intend to have it up before the premiere, but I'm glad I waited because the second episode helped me clarify what I wanted to say for this chapter. I was frankly surprised when people didn't seem to understand why Felicity would be so angry that Oliver made her his personal assistant without consulting her and I like to think I deal with some of that here.

Quick notes on continuity with the show: they are MADDENINGLY inconsistent with Oliver's scars so I just decided to do what I wanted. Obviously, Felicity and Oliver squabble all the time, it's part of their chemistry, but this, for me, is their first big fight about something non-Hood related.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

At first, Oliver assumes Felicity is just waiting to finish up the projects she's put so much effort into at her new job before coming back to QC. That idea goes out the window, though, when she only replaces them with new projects. Then he just assumes she's protesting on principle, a simple display of independence rather than something she actually means. But after six months, he realizes she is serious about working there when she accepts a promotion. So, he takes action.

The fact that she chooses to work at the company is proof enough for him that it's a good acquisition for QC's maligned Applied Sciences Department, but he's still glad to have the information confirmed by his company's accountants and tech people. He doesn't tell her because he wants it to be a surprise, watch her face as she realizes that they don't have to work in separate offices anymore and she doesn't have to feel like her work has been wasted. He plans a quiet dinner at her favorite restaurant, calls ahead to make sure they've got a few bottles of her favorite wine and even brings her flowers. He accounts for everything except her reaction.

"You did WHAT?!" Felicity prompts in full Loud Voice when he tells her that he signed the papers that day and Queen Consolidated now owns her company. He leans forward over the table before answering, sending a nervous glance around the restaurant and seeing the curious stares of seemingly every patron.

"I knew you didn't want to come back to QC if it meant abandoning all the work you've done. Now you don't have to. And as a bonus you won't have to come up with excuses whenever I need your help with our night jobs anymore," he adds with false brightness, hoping to counter the intense look of fury on her face.

"I can't believe you would do that, Oliver," she replies.

"Will you lower your voice," he says pointedly and leans back in his chair. "I want you to help revitalize our R&D in Applied Sciences. I think after a few years heading up the projects you're already working on, you can take it over completely."

"What about Paul?" she asks, referring to her boss and the now-former owner of her company. Her voice is a little quieter, but still loud enough to draw attention.

"He'll stay on, but he wants to retire in the next few years," Oliver explains with a wave of his hand, "this will give him the capital to do it."

"But there are more senior employees in both companies, why aren't you considering them?" she asks and Oliver can tell she's starting to warm to the idea by the hint of excitement he can hear in her tone.

"Well, Paul and I agreed you're the employee with the most potential over there and AS was underperforming at QC long before the Undertaking," he explains, sounding every inch the CEO. "We'll have to choose the best people based on redundancies and our needs and let the rest go." Felicity jolts in her seat and whatever warmth was growing suddenly turns to ice.

"So people are losing their jobs over this?" she seethes.

"Some people will be getting severance packages, yes," Oliver replies. "Which are very generous, you know." Felicity exhales a sigh of frustration and lightly slams a fist down onto the table.

"Damn it, Oliver, I told you I liked my job. I don't want to leave it," she says a little lower, but still loud enough to draw attention.

"Technically, you're not," he argues. "The work will be the same, except now you'll be doing it a few floors down from my office."

"That is not the point," she hurls back and crosses her arms with a huff.

"Then what is?" he fires back and leans forward. But she doesn't get to answer because their waiter appears.

"Are you interested in dessert, Mr. Queen?" he asks, but his tone and the indignant look on his face convey his real message: that they're making a scene and the management does not appreciate it.

"Just the check," Felicity replies.

They walk out of the restaurant in silence, Felicity almost stomping down the stairs. The mood doesn't improve once they get in the car either, opening her own door and sitting sullenly in the passenger seat. She turns on the radio the minute the engine ignites and turns the volume high, effectively preempting any conversation. Oliver knows the situation is bad, but he doesn't understand just how until he walks her to the door of her apartment building. Instead of opening the door wide enough for him to follow her through, she turns to him and gives her typical stern teacher look.

"Goodnight, Oliver," she says firmly.

"You don't want me to come up?" he asks, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"No, I don't," she says with a bitter laugh and pushes her glasses up to rub her eyes.

"I don't understand why you're angry."

"Yes, I'm aware," she says condescendingly. "And that's part of the problem, but I don't think we should have this conversation right now because I need time to think about what I'm going to do."

"You're going to come back to QC though, right?" he asks a little desperately and she must see how upset he gets at the thought that she won't because her features soften and her hand comes up to comfortingly stroke his cheek.

"I just need time to think, Oliver," she says softly, avoiding his question.

"How long?"

"We can talk tomorrow night at the lair," she explains and leans down to kiss him on the cheek. He closes his eyes and savors her warmth and then watches her turn and walk away, staring through the glass and wrought iron door in a daze until she disappears up the foyer's central staircase.

This was not how he expected this night would end. Felicity smothering him with kisses followed later by amazing celebratory sex, at worst a little admonishment about spending that kind of money on her to which he could charmingly reply that she was worth every penny—those were the scenarios he planned for. Going home alone and coming to terms with the idea that his girlfriend doesn't want to work for his company anymore was never a possibility he considered. He slowly trudges down the stairs of her stoop and considers that perhaps Diggle was right when he said that giving her some sort of warning was a good idea. An awful sense of déjà vu washes over him when he finally climbs into the car and he tries not to let the way he feels remind him of that night after the mission in Saverin's restaurant, of what it was like to live without her.

He fails miserably.

By the time he finally makes it to the Queen Mansion, Oliver's hands are shaking. He clenches them into fists as he walks into the house and tries to suppress the images flashing unbidden through his mind: Felicity crying on her bedroom floor, the man in the alley, the destroyed lair. He bounds up the central staircase as if he can escape the thoughts through movement, but when he turns down the hall to his bedroom, he runs into Thea so hard that he has to reach out a hand to stop her from falling.

"Ollie!" she says, surprised. "What are you doing here? How'd it go?"

"Not great," Oliver says through gritted teeth.

"Is everything ok?" she asks and reaches for him, but he flinches away. He tries to smile and grimaces instead.

"I'm not feeling so good," he lies. "I just need to lie down," he adds and brushes past her, ignoring the look of concern on her face and her breathless, "ok."

Oliver slams his bedroom door and heads straight for the bathroom because he can taste bile in the back of his throat. He braces his hands on either side of the sink and stares down into the basin, trying to slow his breathing. When he looks up into the mirror, he's startled by his own reflection. His face is ashen and covered in sweat and his eyes half mad. He lowers his gaze and turns the tap, rinsing his face in cold water to snap himself out of it. It helps a little, but he still feels off as he goes through his nightly routine.

It's not until he walks back into the bedroom and rummages through his dresser only to remember that his favorite sleep shirt is at Felicity's apartment that he realizes why being in his bedroom is doing very little to comfort him. He spends most nights with Felicity now, snuggled next to her in that tiny little bed. They never sleep here because, as she once crassly explained, the idea of blowing him in the same bed he slept in as a child while his sister sleeps down the hall weirds her out. And he certainly can't argue with her when she puts it like that, even though he'd like to.

Oliver can't even remember the last time he slept in his own bed. And when he climbs into it, he can't seem to get comfortable, like he needs her pressed against him to sleep. He consider's it's probably not far from the truth. Sleep comes fitfully throughout the night and whenever he does manage to rest, his nightmares wake him up. All of them involving Felicity. He's almost relieved when his alarm finally goes off.

Though he's a little less grateful when he's greeted by Diggle's "I-Told-You-So Face" when he steps through the front door.

"Felicity didn't take the news too well, huh?" he asks smugly.

"No, she did not," Oliver grumbles and climbs into the backseat of the car.

"How bad is it?" Diggle asks once he climbs into the driver's seat.

"I'm not sure," Oliver sighs, rubbing his face. "She said she needed to think about whether or not she would come back to QC." That seems to surprise even Diggle, his shoulders tensing and his eyebrows raising in surprise at him in the rearview mirror.

"Well, grovel if you have to," Diggle demands, but his voice is kinder than before. "We need her."

"I know that, Digg," Oliver replies harshly.

"Hey, I tried to warn you," Diggle says just as harshly. "You're the one who decided not to listen."

"Digg..." Oliver starts, but his phone begins to buzz in his pocket and he's thankful to read the number of his secretary. Though that feeling lessens when she explains that HR has prepared all of the severance package information and is nearly done preparing the new employee paperwork. He considers telling her to cancel everything at that moment and instead connect him with Paul to tell him the deal is off, but it would be too little too late. Felicity's already mad at him, the only way to deal with that now is to talk to her.

The work day seems to drag on, not only because he's exhausted, but because Oliver both dreads and yearns for the hour when he can leave to meet Felicity in the lair. It doesn't help that they don't spend a good portion of the day texting or emailing each other like they usually do.

Oliver tells Diggle to hang back a bit so he and Felicity have a time to talk and his bodyguard surprisingly obliges without comment. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Felicity's car parked in the lot at Verdant and realizes some small part of him worried she wouldn't show up at all. When he opens the door, he finds her sitting behind her computers. In typical fashion, she's too focused on what she's doing to notice Oliver's entrance and it's not until he says a soft, "hey," from behind her that she turns to look at him. She sighs as she spins her chair to face him and the expression on her face is equal parts annoyed and stern teacher look—until she sees his face.

"You look like hell," she says tactlessly and Oliver smiles. Sometimes he really loves this woman.

"I didn't sleep very well."

"Why not?" she asks and he's heartened by the concern he hears in her voice.

"I missed you," he replies and his voice sounds far more pathetic than he thinks is becoming of a man who spends his nights striking terror into hardened criminals. Felicity crosses her arms.

"How am I supposed to be angry with you when you look at me like that and say things like that?" she asks petulantly.

"That's your problem," he says with a shrug. She narrows her eyes and then begrudgingly reaches both arms out to him. Oliver smiles and kneels down in front of her, scooting forward between the spread of her legs so he can wrap his arms around her waist and rest his head in her lap. He sighs when she runs her hands through his hair and over his back and the tendons in his shoulders crack as he lets go of tension he didn't realize he was holding.

"I missed you too," Felicity whispers.

"But you still look beautiful," he mutters against her thigh.

"Well, I've always been prettier than you," she teases.

"True," Oliver says immediately and lifts his head to look at her. Felicity leans down and kisses him softly.

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Not much."

"The island again?" she asks and drags her nails through the stubble on his cheek the way he likes.

"Not really," Oliver replies, but doesn't elaborate. But Felicity has never been one to let him dodge an answer.

"What then?" she presses, brow creased in worry.

"You," Oliver admits and her forehead crinkles even more. "You trapped on the island with me, you getting hurt, you leaving."

"I'm here now," she says sweetly and kisses him. She rests her forehead against his after, eyes closed, and Oliver can tell she feels bad. Which means this is the perfect time for their talk.

"Are you coming back to QC?" he says softly, sounding as meek as he can muster. Felicity's body tenses under his hands and her eyes snap open. She contemplates him with annoyance, as if she's still deciding and doesn't appreciate his tactics. She sighs and reclines in her chair, her eyes turned toward the ceiling.

"Yes," she replies, resigned.

"Great," Oliver bellows and stands, picking her up in the process.

"Oliver! Oliver, put me down," she commands and tries to squirm out of his grasp. He reluctantly sets her feet on the floor and takes a step back before fixing her with a questioning gaze. "This doesn't mean I'm not still angry with you," she says and crosses her arms.

"Why?" he says impatiently, the exhaustion starting to take its toll. "What's the problem?"

"That's part of the problem right there, Oliver," she says and shakes her head. "You don't even realize you did something wrong." She pokes him sharply in the chest as she talks. "You gave me no choice but to do what you wanted," she accuses, voice raised. "What was I supposed to do? Leave my job? You knew how much those projects meant to me and you exploited it so I would come back even though I told you repeatedly that I was happy where I was."

"That is not what I did, Felicity." he says and throws his hands in the air in exasperation. "You'll still be working on the same projects, but in the QC offices. You're not sacrificing anything. And let's not forget you're getting a pretty generous promotion out of the deal considering there are employees in both companies with seniority."

Oliver knows he's fucked up the moment the words leave his mouth. But he doesn't understand how badly until he sees Felicity's reaction. Her eyes widen in shock and then narrow to tiny slits a moment later. Her posture straightens in indignation one moment and in the next, she's lunging at him.

"That's it! I...," she starts in her Loud Voice and grabs him by the lapels. But she's stopped short by the sound of Diggle opening the door to the lair. Felicity pushes Oliver away with a disgusted sound and goes to her computers.

"Guess I should have waited a little longer," Diggle says apologetically as he trudges down the stairs.

"No, you're just in time," Felicity intones, her voice now scarily calm. "I was just about to murder the Hood." Diggle raises an eyebrow at Oliver that says more than one of his usual lectures probably could and Oliver throws his hands in the air with a frustrated growl.

"I'm going to get changed," he grumbles, grabs his suit and walks toward the back.

"He means well, you know," he hears Diggle say as he shuts the door. Oliver hopes it helps, but gathers from the muffled sounds of anger he hears through the door that it doesn't.

By the time he gets his gear on and walks back into the main section of the lair, Felicity is typing on her keyboard as loudly and passive-aggressively as possible and refuses to look in his direction. Diggle stands off to the side, making final preparations for their mission tonight.

After months of taking down Julian Saverin's criminal network one branch at a time, they're finally ready to take down the man himself. While the various capos they've delivered to the cops and their testimony have helped the case against him (and helped get the Hood, or as the media increasingly call him, the Arrow, back on Officer Lance's good side), they still haven't definitively linked him to the seedier parts of his crime network. But they did catch a break when the head of his network of underground casinos suggested Saverin's corporation might not be as squeaky clean as it appears.

Felicity took another look at the information they got from Saverin's computer in the restaurant and found nothing. The only place left to find possible evidence was his corporate offices. She tried to hack into the servers there to no avail, so they decided the only course of action was to infiltrate Saverin Industries the same way they had Merlyn Global before the Undertaking.

Except what they did during the Merlyn job isn't remotely possible now. Queen Consolidated has mostly recovered from the financial hit it took after the Undertaking, but the mere rumor of Oliver meeting with Saverin (whose name is increasingly associated with the city's corruption and less with good business practice) could be damaging. Felicity has become somewhat of a minor celebrity in Starling City since she and Oliver went public (the fashion pages seem especially enamored) and someone was sure to wonder why Oliver Queen's girlfriend was posing as a delivery girl for a greasy burger joint. Even Diggle has his fans thanks to how frequently he gets snapped in the background of paparazzi photos. Carly's laughter had very nearly been fatal the first time Felicity showed her #QueensHotBodyguard on Twitter.

This time, they would have to go undetected. Oliver had argued, repeatedly and to no avail, that Felicity was absolutely forbidden from going into the field given her track record for getting into trouble every time she did. But in the end, his worry couldn't surmount the unavoidable fact that she would need to do the hacking herself, that even if Oliver could remotely hook her into Saverin's servers, if anything went wrong the whole operation would be a waste. They couldn't depend on being able to break in a second time if they failed the first.

So, after much arguing and many concessions on Oliver's part, Felicity and Diggle had finally coaxed him into agreeing to let her accompany him. Though he had gained one concession. Tabloid fame had prevented Felicity from going on a mission, much to her chagrin, since their public debut. So, Oliver had demanded that if she was going with him, she'd have to dress for the occasion.

When he approaches her desk, Felicity stands and brushes past him to change into the modified Hood uniform she fashioned out of the remnants of his old gear. The first time she had tried it on, they had ended up sprawled naked on the training mats because the sight of her in something that so profoundly and unequivocally marked her as his had turned Oliver on more than it probably should have. He suspects that won't be the case this time.

When Felicity comes back a minute later, hood pulled over her head and tight pencil skirt and heels replaced with dark pants and sneakers, she looks more imposing than sexy. It's probably due to the scowling. She sits in her desk chair again, completely ignoring Oliver even though she has to walk around him to do so and Diggle gives him a very pointed look from across the room.

"You two sure you're up for this?" he asks. "Maybe we should reschedule."

"We can't," Felicity responds, tightly. "Getting the information on the building's security protocols was hard enough the first time and half the pass codes we have become obsolete in the next 24 hours. It's now or never." Diggle glances to Oliver for confirmation and he shrugs in response.

"You heard her," he says and Felicity scoffs.

"Good to know I still get a say," she mutters bitterly and continues typing.

She remains sullen as they make their final preparations in the lair and on the drive over. When the three of them separate outside the Saverin Industries building and she barely opens her mouth to tell Diggle to stay safe like she always does, Oliver knows he's got to do something.

"Felicity, I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he says as she paces next to the van.

"Not as sorry as you could be," she grumbles as she fiddles with her tablet.

"I'd just like to remind you both now that I can hear everything you're saying," Diggle says lowly through the comm link.

"That's right," Felicity says viciously, stopping and turning to look at Oliver and he knows he's in for it. "Maybe you can help Oliver understand what he did wrong then. Are you in the security room yet, by the way?"

"Just about," Diggle replies, "I'll let you know when I have control of the surveillance feeds."

"Well, while you're doing that, Oliver, would you like to tell John what you said right before he interrupted our fight," she asks mockingly and gives him that stern teacher look.

"Felicity, please, let's not do this," Oliver begs.

"Let me refresh your memory," she says coolly. "You were telling me that I should stop complaining and be grateful that you were giving me a promotion."

"Felicity, that's not–" Oliver starts, but she interrupts, Loud Voicing over him.

"Thereby implying that I might not deserve said promotion and that I am getting it solely because I'm your girlfriend," she says with barely contained rage. Diggle doesn't comment because he's still telling the security guard he's replacing that the usual guy has the night off, but his voice falters and he clears his throat nervously.

"You know that's not what I meant, Felicity," Oliver says and steps closer to her. "Paul and I both agreed you're the most qualified person for the job."

"_I_ know I'm qualified," she says and points to herself then jabs him in the chest, "and I know _you_ know I'm qualified, but did you take a second to think what the press is going to say?" Oliver looks away; she has him there. He knows how much the meaner things the press says affect her, even if she always tries to laugh them off.

"You guys should be good to go," Diggle's voice breaks in on the comms. Felicity turns and Oliver follows.

"Who cares what the press thinks?" he argues to her back as she punches in the code to the door at the building's back entrance.

"Ok," she says, pushing the door open and walking through it to wait for him inside. "What about the employees? Gossip was bad enough when I was working in the IT Department, can you imagine what it's going to be like now?"

"I tried to tell him that," Diggle, the traitor, chimes in as they step into the elevator. Felicity presses the button for the floor with the servers and frowns at him.

"And you didn't listen of course," she says wryly.

"Who cares what people think?" Oliver says in exasperation. "I'll fire anyone who suggests you don't deserve that job."

"Great idea," she says. "That'll be even better PR for QC than the fact that half the department had to lose their jobs so you could promote your girlfriend."

The elevator doors open then and Felicity strides out without another word, but Oliver follows immediately and grabs her arm, roughly spinning her around so she has to face him.

"Hey!" she exclaims and looks up at him in surprise. Oliver releases her, but still steps toward her and leans down so their noses are almost touching.

"Can't you give me a break?" he asks menacingly. "None of this would have happened if you would have just come back to QC in the first place."

"Right, of course," she says more fiercely than ever. "Because Oliver Queen gets whatever he wants. Too bad for you if you disagree."

"Guys," Diggle's interrupts, "maybe you can do this later. There's a guard 30 seconds out from your location."

"We're not done," Oliver growls.

"No, we aren't," Felicity replies.

She turns and heads straight to the door of the server room, quickly punching in the code to open the door and not even bothering to hold it open for Oliver. He slips through anyway just before it closes and he can't miss the annoyed look on her face. Felicity flips her hood back and sets to work plugging her tablet into one of the servers while Oliver paces. He tries to ignore how tense things are between them, but the heavy silence in the room and from Diggle on comms makes him feel claustrophobic.

"How's it going?" he asks.

"I'm not seeing anything," she says absently.

"Damn it," Oliver swears and slams a gloved hand against one of the servers.

"Careful," Felicity snaps.

"We need to find something," he says and rounds on her. "We aren't going to get another opportunity."

"You think I don't know that?" she fires back.

"Is there anywhere else we could possibly find information?" Felicity sighs and rubs her eyes for a moment as she thinks and then her head snaps up.

"Maybe Saverin's accountants have separate records," she starts. "They could be keeping what we need off the company network or on hard copy."

"Where would we find that?" Oliver prompts.

"Give me a second," Felicity says and turns back to her tablet. Her fingers fly over its surface and after a few moments, that satisfied, mischievous smile breaks across her face that means she's onto something.

"The accounting offices are one floor up," she explains. "We need to swipe an employee ID to get in, but," she's silent a moment as her typing continues, "that won't be a problem. Digg, can you keep an eye on the surveillance feeds and make sure we're clear?"

"Sure. Looks like there's a stairwell about ten feet down the hall from your location. It and the hall leading to it are clear."

Oliver waits while Felicity unhooks her tablet from the server and then leads her out of the room, checking the hallway before waving his hand as an indication to follow. They make it through the hall and up the stairs without encountering anyone and then pause until they hear the all-clear from Diggle. They slip through the door and quickly locate the correct suite of offices.

"I'll start with the computers," Felicity directs once they're in the room. "You start looking through desks and those bookshelves over there." Oliver nods and does so, but very quickly realizes he has no idea what he's really looking for. He's never been terribly good at math and Felicity's always helped him with QC financials. Thankfully, Felicity offers some help.

"Oliver, is there a record book for 2007 over there?" she asks. Oliver takes a moment to run his eyes over the spines of the notebooks.

"Got it," he exclaims and removes the book from the shelf. He brings it over and sets it down on the desk in front of her. "What are you looking for?"

"Starting in 2007 and ending in 2012, there are small payouts to someone or something that's only referred to in these documents as RD," she says, her brow furrowed in thought.

"What's the date of the first payment?" Oliver asks and starts flipping through pages.

"Looks like sometime in November," she says and Oliver's hands freeze.

"That's when the Queen's Gambit went down," he says hollowly. Felicity turns a concerned gaze on him and then takes the book to look for information, her expression more determined than before.

"There," she says and points to a $1,000 payout to a company called Renfield Dynamics.

"Wait a second," Oliver says and pulls the book back over. "I know that name. During my mother's trial there was a company helping fund the Undertaking at Merlyn Global with that same name. The ADA discovered it was a shell corporation pretty quickly, but they couldn't find any records on who owned it."

"Because they didn't have electronic records," Felicity says triumphantly. "We have to give this to Lance."

"Wait," Oliver says and reaches to take the notebook from her. "If we just take that out of here, Saverin can just claim the records are fabricated."

"We can at least take photos," she says and takes out her tablet. "Then when they get a search warrant, they'll know what they're looking for."

Felicity spends the next few minutes photographing the pages of the notebook and the bookshelves where they are stored before restoring everything to just the way they left it and placing her tablet in the large pocket she sewed for it on the front of her gear.

"Ok, Digg, we're good to go," Oliver says into the comms.

"Hold on, this floor is laid out differently than the one you were on," their partner replies. "Ok, you'll have to take a right out of the door and then there should be a hall on your left that'll lead to the elevators."

"Where's the guard?" Felicity asks and pulls Oliver's hand back from the door handle.

"There are two of them on that floor," Diggle responds worriedly. "And they look heavily armed."

"I think there are some executive offices on this floor," Felicity explains.

"They're not far from your location, but you should be able to avoid them."

"Ok, we're on the move," Oliver replies and opens the door. He grabs Felicity's hand and leads her down the hall, but when they make the turn Diggle instructed, they see the hall splits at the end.

"Left or right, Digg?" Oliver says lowly.

"What? Can't you see the elevators at the end of the hall?"

"No, it just splits off," Oliver growls in frustration.

"Hold on, I'm looking," Diggle says, clearly overwhelmed. "There are a lot more cameras on this floor."

"Come on, Digg," Oliver growls again and Felicity elbows him.

"Ok," their partner says after a few maddening seconds of silence. "Take a right down the first hall and then a left at the next opening." Oliver charges ahead, practically dragging Felicity with him and makes the turn, but as he does, Diggle's voice comes blaring over the comms.

"Wait! The guard," he yells, but his words are interrupted by the sound of said guard barking an order at them.

"Stop where you are," the man's voice booms from behind them. Felicity and Oliver slowly turn in unison to see a large man dressed in a dark suit pointing a handgun at them. His left hand leaves the grip to reach for a radio in his breast pocket and he eyes them as he talks into it. "Hey, Fred, I've got the Arrow guy and a friend outside of Michaelson's office. You better get over here."

He moves to place the radio back in his pocket, but he misses and has to look down. Oliver knows it's all the opening he needs, but before he can move, Felicity steps forward, grabbing the guard's wrist with her left hand and then jamming the heel of her right into his nose. He yelps in pain and drops the gun and Felicity knees him hard in the groin. She steps back and Oliver moves forward and bashes the guard in the head with his bow, knocking him out. He looks up at Felicity then, impressed with how quickly she reacted. They've never fought together in the field, only in training scenarios, and he can't help but feel a smidgen of pride at how smoothly they work together. She clearly feels the same way because she grins proudly and Oliver can't help but laugh at how smug she looks.

When he thinks back on it later, Oliver knows that he must have heard the sound of the gunshot before Felicity's scream, but in the moment, all he registers is her. It's the most horrible thing he's ever heard. The sight of her body spinning from the force of the bullet and then hitting the ground is even more awful. He turns instinctively in the direction of the shooter, arrow knocked and ready before he's fully turned and fires it into the man's shoulder. He hits the ground and Oliver kicks the gun from his hand and then drops on his knees in front of him, fist raised. He doesn't know what his plans were in that moment. He hadn't killed a man with arrow or fist since the man in the alley, having lost his taste for it, but he suspects this man might have shared the same fate if Felicity hadn't stopped him.

"Oliver!" she cries out in warning, her panic barely masking the pain. He looks back and the pool of blood forming near her left shoulder sharpens his mind, so clouded with exhaustion and rage only moments ago. He turns back to the wounded guard and grabs him roughly by the collar.

"Where's the elevator?" he roars into his face.

"Down that hall," the man says in terror and points slightly behind him. Oliver knocks him out and scrambles toward Felicity, picking her up and trying to ignore the sharp pain he feels in his chest when she gasps in pain. He finally notices the sound of Diggle's voice in his ear then.

"Will somebody please tell me what's going on?!" he says in unbridled fear.

"Felicity's been shot," Oliver says and doesn't recognize his own voice. "Meet us at the van." He reaches the elevator a moment later and jams the button repeatedly until he feels Felicity's hand on his chin.

"You'll break it," she jokes softly, trying to comfort him but clearly still terrified judging by the look in her eyes.

"Put pressure on that," he says and gestures to her wound. She whimpers when she does and Oliver can't stop the tears of worry that spring to his eyes. He closes them and presses his forehead to hers, focusing on the shaky breaths she exhales against his lips until the doors open. He steps in and jams the button for the ground floor, setting Felicity down propped against the back corner so he can take care of any threats should they be stopped on the way down. They aren't.

"I can still walk, you know," she says as Oliver picks her up when they reach the ground floor.

"Not on your life," he grumbles. They reach the van in no time and Diggle has the door open and waiting for them when they do. Oliver sets Felicity down and climbs over her in the flat space of the back so he can apply pressure to her wound.

"Starling General," Oliver says curtly when Diggle turns a questioning gaze on him from the driver's seat.

"No, go back to the lair," Felicity interjects.

"Absolutely not," Oliver says fiercely and turns to look at her.

"Oliver, the bullet didn't go all the way through," she starts rambling, clearly running on adrenaline. "We've dealt with this kind of thing before."

"And I almost died," Oliver roars, but she ignores him.

"We've got all the supplies we need there and I haven't lost as much blood as you did. I'm not risking people finding out about you."

"Damn it, Felicity!" Oliver yells, but Diggle places a hand on his shoulder and he turns to look at his partner.

"She's right, Oliver," he says and then turns around to get the car moving.

"Fine," Oliver seethes, "but I'm taking you to the hospital at the first sign of trouble." Felicity just rolls her eyes.

The ride back to Verdant seems interminable. Not least because Oliver is forced to watch helplessly as Felicity's skin pales and she starts to shiver as the adrenaline wears off. At least her blood loss seems to slow. He uses the limited medical supplies they have to clean the wound slightly and administer a local anesthetic that he hopes will kick in before they have to dig the bullet out of her shoulder.

But he's not really thinking about that. What runs through his mind as they drive is how guilty he feels for fighting with her, how guilty he feels for bringing her into this life at all. But he can't bring himself to regret that either, even in this moment. She is part of everything now and he can't imagine living without her. He loves her so much

"Felicity..." he starts softly, his voice full of apology.

"I know," she says, emotion coloring her voice. "Me too." He leans down and kisses her then and grips her hand tightly in his for the rest of the ride.

Diggle barely has the car in park before Oliver is wrenching the door open and carrying Felicity to the door. He sets her down on the stretcher near the medical supplies once they're in the lair and moves to the drawer that holds the blood bags she insisted on storing for herself despite Oliver's protests. He admits now that it was a good idea.

"That's probably not necessary," she argues when he hangs the bag on the IV stand for later.

"Yes, it is," Diggle chimes in from across the room and Oliver smiles triumphantly at her. He unzips her Arrow costume and gingerly helps her slide it off her shoulders as she cringes with every movement. He can't bear to do the same with her shirt and cuts the sleeve off with scissors instead.

"Hey," she protests, "I love this shirt."

"I'll buy you another," Oliver promises and then gently lays her back on the stretcher. Diggle walks up then and sets the box of rubber gloves down on the stretcher and Oliver quickly removes his leather gloves and replaces them with a set.

"We have to dig the bullet out first," he warns Felicity and she nods and clenches her jaw. She reaches out blindly for Oliver's hand and grips it tight.

"I'm right here," he reassures. She shuts her eyes and shudders when the small forceps first dig into the wound. Her small whimpers of pain threaten to slowly drive Oliver insane and he doesn't know how much more he can take when Felicity suddenly cries out in pain and without thought, Oliver lunges across the table at Diggle, grabbing his collar and glaring into his eyes.

"Oliver, stop," Felicity says calm but firm. "Diggle is just trying to help," she adds and Oliver knows, rationally, that she's right, but it takes the feel of her hand against his face, pulling him close, to make him release his friend's shirt. He blinks in confusion and turns to look at Felicity. She leans up a little and presses her lips to his and suddenly Oliver is back in that moment and so fucking glad she's still alive. He takes her face in both his hands and kisses her harder, only to be stopped a moment later as she gasps in pain as Diggle finally removes the bullet. He presses his forehead to hers and just stares down at her as Diggle prepares more supplies, thanking whatever divine hand or twist of fate kept that bullet from taking her away from him.

"I love you," he says softly. Felicity shuts her eyes and sighs an "I love you too," back.

Oliver shuts his eyes too and stays that way as Diggle prepares the blood bag and sews her up, commenting how lucky they are the bullet didn't damage any bone. Oliver kisses Felicity or gives her hand a comforting squeeze every time she reacts to the pain. Finally, Diggle says he's done and Oliver stands up, but he doesn't let go of her hand.

"How'd I do?" she asks drowsily, the pain meds finally kicking in.

"Gold star," Oliver says and kisses the back of her hand.

"Damn good," Diggle agrees and gently pats her hand." Just make sure you keep taking those painkillers and antibiotics," Diggle says pointedly at Oliver as he gathers up the used supplies.

"Thank you," Oliver says and holds out his hand. Diggle takes it and gives a quick nod. "You go ahead and go home to Carly," he adds. "I can get her home."

"Thanks," Digg says before adding, "feel better, Smoak," as he walks away.

"Thanks, John," she calls out and lets go of Oliver's hand to flail hers around in the air in farewell. Her eyes stay closed the whole time and Oliver just stares down at her, thankful that his nightmares last night weren't prescient. After a moment, Felicity's eyes suddenly snap open.

"Where's my tablet?" she asks, trying to sit up but flopping back down when she's reminded of the pain in her shoulder. "We have to send what we found to Lance."

"It can wait until tomorrow," Oliver says, his voice leaving no room for discussion.

"Oliver," she insists.

"Felicity," he responds. She concedes after frowning at him for a few moments.

"Ugh, I feel gross," she groans. "I wish my apartment had a tub."

"I've got one at the mansion, you know," Oliver says enticingly. She turns and contemplates him for a moments and then sighs.

"Fine," she says and Oliver almost pumps his fist in the air. "But no funny business," she warns, "and we have to stop at my apartment first to pick up some things."

"Deal," Oliver says.

They take her car, Oliver driving and Felicity fighting off sleep and fidgeting with her sling as she compiles a long list of items Oliver needs to find in her apartment. It takes him nearly 10 minutes to do so, but what takes the longest is finding his favorite shirt. It's not in his drawer where he left it or in the hamper. Instead, he eventually finds it folded neatly with a pair of her comfy shorts on her bed, smelling of her and slightly wrinkled from her wearing it to sleep last night.

Oliver drives a little recklessly back to the mansion and thanks his lucky stars that Thea is still at the club when they get there. No way he could have carried an injured Felicity through the foyer without a a barrage of questions. That can also be tomorrow's problem.

Felicity snuggles into him when he picks her up this time, wrapping her good arm around his neck while her slinged hand plays absently with the buttons of the dress shirt he changed back into before leaving the lair. He brings her straight to the bathroom in his room and sets her standing in front of the tub.

Oliver knows how exhausted Felicity is simply by how quiet she remains throughout, complacently letting him undo her sling and stepping out of her pants when he slides them down her legs. She doesn't even protest when he rips the seams of her shirt instead of putting her through more pain by lifting it over her head. She sighs as she slides into the warm water, but Oliver reaches out a hand to keep her from completely submerging herself and getting her bandage wet.

"I'm going to start hating this thing pretty quick, aren't I?" she asks and looks over at the bandage.

"Probably," Oliver says as he gently tilts her head back into the water so he can get her hair wet. "But at least it wasn't your other arm. You wound't have been able to move a mouse."

"Ugh, that would have been a nightmare."

The bath seems to wake Felicity up a bit, mostly due to her frustration at not being able to do something as simple as rinsing her own hair unaided. Oliver suspects this won't be the last time he'll have to help her bathe, so at least something good came out of all this. Once she's all cleaned up, he helps her out of the water again and nearly breaks the "no funny business" part of their deal with how much he's enjoying drying her off. But all it takes is the sharp warning of "hands," from Felicity to put a stop to that.

After reluctantly helping Felicity into her pajamas (half of which are his pajamas because once she saw he had taken his shirt from her apartment, she had pouted until he had agreed to let her wear it), she and Oliver stand together at his bathroom sink brushing their teeth. There's something so deliciously familiar about it and Oliver can't help but feel, despite everything, that he's so glad just to have her in his room with him. He hopes it won't take another bullet to get her back here in the future.

He's not really sure where they stand at this point and as much as he wants to clarify things, he doesn't think now is the time to talk it out. It at least seems like they aren't going to break up and that's all the reassurance he really needs right now. Yet another problem for tomorrow.

He concedes to her request to walk into the bedroom on her own and finishes getting ready for bed. When he walks out, she's already halfway beneath the covers, but having trouble settling in with just the one arm. He comes to the rescue, pulling them up so she's cocooned in their warmth the way she likes and then leans down and kisser her on the forehead.

"Goodnight," he says softly and then turns to leave the room. Partly because he's not sure how mad she still is and partly because the only surefire way to guarantee he won't get handsy after the 48 hours they've just had is to leave the room entirely.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Felicity asks, stopping him in his tracks. He turns and gives her a quizzical look.

"I thought...after everything that's happened...because you still seemed kind of angry...and our deal...you'd want some space," Oliver says haltingly. Felicity sighs and fixes him with a stern teacher look.

"Are you kidding me right now, Queen?" she says drily. "Get over here." Oliver smiles, so relieved he won't have to spend another hellish night without her, and pulls off his replacement shirt in one swift movement. She laughs and sticks her right arm out so she can place her hand on the side of his face as he slips under the covers. He bands his right arm around her waist and slides his left under her neck so he can cradle her head on his arm and tangle his fingers in her hair. She draws him close then–her fingers scrubbing through his beard–and kisses him. She pulls back with her eyes still closed a moment later and settles her head on Oliver's arm.

"Much better," she says with a contented sigh that fills Oliver's whole body with warmth and affection and just so much relief that he didn't lose her.

"I'm sorry we fought today," he mutters as he nuzzles the side of her face. "I'll call Paul tomorrow and tell him the deal's off." He expects that to be the end of the conversation, but suddenly Felicity's hand is on his chest, pushing at him until he opens his eyes to look at her.

"Why would you do that?" she asks.

"I thought you'd made it pretty clear you didn't want to come back to QC," he says a little bitterly. Felicity sighs and her fingers slide to the hair on top of his head. She grips it tightly for a second as she closes her eyes, clearly an act of frustration, but Oliver can't help the twinge of pleasure it brings him as it reminds him of when she's done it under more passionate circumstances.

"I wasn't mad because I don't want to work with you again, Oliver," she says and finally opens her eyes. "You're right, it's a good investment for QC and it will give us the funding we desperately need to finish some projects," she says and he can't help but feel proud to get her approval. "I don't even really care what the press will say or the fact that people are losing their jobs—not that I'm particularly happy about that last part," she adds and gives him a stern look. "I do miss you and it'll be nice to see each other whenever we want," she says with that mischievous smile he loves. "I'm mad because you just decided for me, Oliver. You completely ignored what I wanted and decided you knew what was better for my career and us. You didn't even consult me," she says angrily. "You can't just make decisions that affect both of us and the work I've done my whole life just because you want something. I don't belong to you; I'm not your property. I don't exist in your life just in the ways that are convenient for you."

"I know that," Oliver says guiltily and pulls her closer. "I'm sorry. I don't want to control you or make you feel like I don't respect your decisions. You know how much I do. I just missed you. I like having you close."

She smiles at him then, so tender, and reaches up her left hand as if to stroke his face and then hisses in pain when she remembers the injury on her shoulder. Oliver sits up and gently takes her arm, supporting the weight, and kisses her hand before laying it down next to her again.

"Does it hurt very much?" he asks. "Do you want me to get you more pain medicine?" he adds and gently traces his fingers along the bandage's bottom edge.

"No, I'll be fine," she replies. "Do you think I'll have a scar?" she asks and turns her head to contemplate the bandage.

"Probably," he admits.

"Then we'll match," she replies and turns back to trace the lines of the scar that first brought her into the dangerous part of his life. "You've still got me beat, though," she says absently. "This is my first. Well, except for that one on my index finger from when I cut myself slicing onions as a kid, but my first one from the Hood."

"It'll be the last," Oliver says stiffly as he tries to banish the thought that she could be hurt again. Felicity takes her hand from his scar and turns him to look at her. She leans up to kiss him and he shuts his eyes and kisses her back, focusing on that feeling to calm his mind. Her hand slides down his neck and comes to rest on his chest, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the scar on his right shoulder. She pulls back with a sigh and then stares at where her hands are, like she's trying to rub it away.

"You know, that was my first scar," Oliver says and brushes his fingers over hers before resting his hand on her stomach. Felicity's eyes flash up to his, but she doesn't press him. He doesn't talk about the island much and she never asks. Perhaps that's why it always seems easier to talk to her about it, because she doesn't need to know about what happened. She just accepts it. "I was burying my father," he says matter-of-factly. Felicity flinches at the revelation, but doesn't comment. "I was placing the last stone on his grave when Yao Fei shot me."

"What?!" she exclaims, eyes wide. "Why?"

"Well, at the time, he said it was to save my life," he replies. "I suppose it's possible. I did pass out after. But considering the arrowhead was laced with curare, I still question his methods."

Felicity leans up and softly presses her lips against the raised scar tissue and then pulls him down by the shoulder so she can kiss those her fingers traced earlier as well. "So this is from an arrow," she mutters then turns to the scar on his other shoulder and kisses that. "This one is from the gunshot that ruined my car's upholstery," she says with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I don't know what this shooting star one is from," she says and brushes her fingers against the raised flesh beneath his Bratva tattoo. "I don't know what the rest of these are from either," she says with a frown and runs her hand down his torso. She picks up his hand from where it rests on her stomach and presses her lips to the inside of his forearm. "This one is from that guy with the claws." She replaces his hand on her abdomen and snakes her arm around him to graze the mottled flesh on his lower back. "And I can't reach this, but I know how you got it."

"I didn't tell you about that one," Oliver says, confused.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" she asks with a sly smile. He tilts his head and eyes her warily. "Classic tramp stamp removal scars," she deadpans. "We've all made mistakes when we're drunk, Oliver, no need to be ashamed," she says in mock sympathy. Oliver jumps up so he's looming over her, hands planted on either side of her and his legs straddling her hips. Felicity yelps at the sudden movement and then giggles as he tries to glower at her despite his smile.

"You think you're so funny don't you, Smoak?" he teases and nuzzles her neck with his stubble in the way he knows tickles her.

"I know I am," she gasps between peals of laughter. Felicity tries to push him off and gasps in pain when she accidentally lifts her injured arm again. "Damn it," she grumbles and lets it drop back onto the bed.

"Now that's quite enough horsing around," Oliver says and shakes a finger at her. "You need to rest." He turns and plops down at her right side and then wraps himself around her—his arms around her abdomen and one leg hitched up between hers.

"You're the boss," she replies and leans over to kiss him while the hand of her good arm strokes the stubble on his cheek.

"Yes, I am," Oliver says smugly when she pulls back.

"Well, don't think that means you get everything your way," she threatens and then closes her eyes.

That proves to be painfully accurate. They squabble over the direction of Applied Sciences and its various projects constantly, especially after she takes over control of the department. There are days when Oliver wonders if Felicity is arguing with him just for fun. He supposes it's possible. The make up sex _is_ amazing.

* * *

Thanks for reading, hopefully the next chapter won't take too long, but it's sort of complicated too. Please, please, please leave a review. I love them very much.


End file.
